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ghosts pass through... ghosts like me with their subtle maneuvers and quiet words. what started with a plan and several muddled dreams becomes a montage of laughter and misdirections. and eventually it becomes you, and you are only what you are. vaguely remembered by many and well-known by a few, not even understood by yourself. at some point my ideas joined with chaos, and the white canvas that was the future flipped into darkness, still blank but ominous. ghosts like me can't stay in one place for long. ghosts like me can't be with themselves. there's no such thing as ghosts.